


But you've known me forever and now I have to say, I always say what I feel

by Virareve



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cameos from Jon/Sansa/Gendry/Robb/Jeyne Poole, Ex-Friends with Benefits to Lovers, F/M, Jaime Lannister's Brand of Flirting, One Shot, Sansa x Lemoncakes, Weddings, its cool guys Margaery has a plan, mentions of ballroom dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25912171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virareve/pseuds/Virareve
Summary: “Yeah, wench,” Jaime agreed, “I’ll be a perfect gentleman. Promise.”Brienne clutched her hands at her sides, biting the insides of her cheeks so she wouldn’t end up laughing hysterically.“Fine.”It was not, in fact, fine.Brienne brings ex-friends with benefits, Jaime Lannister, as her boyfriend to Renly's wedding.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 68
Kudos: 210
Collections: Jaime x Brienne Fic Exchange 2020





	But you've known me forever and now I have to say, I always say what I feel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChaoticDemon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticDemon/gifts).



> Hi Giftee!
> 
> Thank you for allowing me the pleasure to write this for you. I hope you find it entertaining. I apologize for the delay. I was in a car accident recently and sustained some hopefully (likely) short-term issues that made it difficult to finish this fic at the pace I had originally planned. It's been a delight to put this together.  
> -Anon  
> _____________________________________________  
> Update 22 August
> 
> Hello! 
> 
> Since I'd discussed some of my prompts with others, I refrained from posting them until after the reveal.  
> Chaotic Demon's Prompts were   
> 1.Tolkien  
> 2.Summer camp  
> 3.Fake relationship
> 
> Despite being on my reading lists, I have yet to read Tolkien, so I couldn't choose that. Summer camp felt out of my league having never been to one so fake relationship it was XD
> 
> -Vira xx
> 
> PS-I am doing SIGNIFICANTLY better nearly two weeks out from my car accident and thank you all for the well-wishes :)  
> _____________________________________________  
> Regards:  
> Writing this fic was a huge endeavor, and I would like to personally thank NaomiGnome and winterkill for providing me support as beta readers. Naomi was a pillar of emotional support I leaned on when I struggled post-accident. winterkill provided a lot of clarity that I needed help with. Thanks for letting me slide into your DMs super late for help!

Oh, no. Oh, no. _Oh, no._

“Miss me, wench?”

Brienne whipped her head over to Margaery.

“You can’t be serious,” Brienne said, “there’s no way in all Seven hells that anyone could believe I’m dating him.”

Margaery frowned at her, seeing through Brienne quite quickly and brushing her aside. “Who are you going to take then?” she asked with a raised brow. “Arya and I are taking our boyfriends. Sansa’s bringing Jon. Theon’s been set up with Sansa’s friend Jeyne. And you’re the one who told Renly and Loras you had a boyfriend to avoid a pity date.”

“Tyrion’s taking his wife,” Jaime supplied. “Though I could probably call up his assistant Pod if you have a thing for barely legal prepubescents.”

Brienne threw him a stink eye. He took extreme pleasure in giving her a shit-eating grin. 

“Not helping, Jaime,” Margery sang. She looked between the two of them. “Look Brienne, Jaime owes me a favor, and he said you guys were friendly acquaintances at WU. He’ll be a gentleman. I promise.”

“Yeah, wench,” Jaime agreed, “I’ll be a perfect gentleman. _Promise_.”

Brienne clutched her hands at her sides, biting the insides of her cheeks so she wouldn’t end up laughing hysterically. 

“Fine.”

* * *

It was not, in fact, fine.

Faced with a looming confession of things she’d rather not revisit if she told Margaery, and utter shock at suddenly seeing him in her life again, Brienne allowed herself to be led out of their apartment to Jaime’s cherry-red Valyrian sportscar. It was the same one he’d driven to Winterfell University where they’d met at eighteen, and the same one he’d driven off in when she’d begged him to stay nearly four years later. The car seemed to wink at her in the sunlight, reminding her that it remembered all the naughty things she and Jaime had gotten up to in the backseat, and she briefly had to look away. 

By the time they reached the Kingsroad, Brienne was ready to jump out of the car from irritation at Jaime. In the beginning, he’d drilled her with small talk. The sort of wanting to know how she was (fine), where she lived (King’s Landing, apparently same as him), what job she had (civil engineer for City of King’s Landing), did she have a house (no) and then veering into relationships before he just got as outright and frank as he was in college. 

“Do you still grunt when you come, wench? That was always one of my favorite sounds.”

“Are you still insistent on in the dark? Because I bet your eyes could make a man cum on their own.”

“Do you still have the same toys? I have some suggestions I can send your way. Just give me your number and I’ll text them.”

“Anyone else ever get you off by just stimulating your tits? I bet no one else did.”

At the latest point, Brienne felt it important to give an actual response before Jaime started heavily editorializing their whole past. “Jaime, you never got me off like that,” she deadpanned.

Jaime looked over to her from the driver’s seat and grinned. “I know,” he shrugged, “just had to make sure you were paying attention. Your nipples were super hot though. Bet they still are.” He leered and looked down at her silk-wrapped chest. “Definitely a highlight of the WU experience.”

Embarrassed, she crossed her arms and let her head fall back against the headrest. “You didn’t just say that,” she said feebly. “This is all some fever dream. Otherwise, I’m going to kill you before this is over.”

“Not like you haven’t before.” When she looked at him confused, he smirked. “Le petite mort, many times over.”

* * *

“Dearest!” Jaime greeted her after post-ceremony pictures. “I’ve been so lost without you.”

Brienne eyed him warily as she walked over to where he, Robb, Gendry, Jon, and Jeyne had decided to camp out before they’d arrived. Waiters walked around them passing hors d'oeuvres round to the guests, and Brienne snagged a puffed meat pastry for herself. Sept weddings tended to run for hours on end and this was no different. She was starving. 

“I hope he didn’t give you trouble,” she said when she got within hearing distance of her friends. 

Across the table Robb, laughed. “Where’ve you been hiding him, Brie, I was just telling him he’s got to come on our camping trips some times. He says he’s a good shot but I bet he’s all fluff and no substance.”

“What did I say about projecting your own faults onto others, Stark,” Jaime teased, pulling Brienne close to him. “Not all of us can be born with Lannister perfection.”

Beside Robb, Gendry snorted into his beer. “Pretty boy one and pretty boy two have been firing shots at each other since the start of the ceremony.”

“Oh Gods,” Jeyne added, smiling when Theon showed up with a glass of wine for her. “Gendry and I were so close to pulling them out of the sept. So many jokes and they’re not even funny.” 

“Hey!” Robb interrupted. “I’m funny.”

Everyone just looked at him and he raised his drink to his mouth. “I’m funny,” he said quietly. 

“Of course you are, babe,” Margaery cooed, coming up to them and slinking her arms around him. She looked around the table. “Now, who here has been wounding my poor baby’s ego?”

Jaime started giggling. Brienne rolled her eyes and poked him.

“Behave yourself,” she whispered. 

“Gentleman’s promise,” he responded, making her groan. She flopped her head against his shoulder. 

“What are the chances I can convince you to go home?” she asked. “I forgot how chaotic you are.”

“Without you?” he teased, smirking against the hair of her scalp, “Not a chance, wench. But if you’re ready for _me_ to take you home, all you gotta do is say the word.” 

“And meet Cersei?” she quipped. “As if.”

Jaime opened his mouth immediately to respond, but they were interrupted by Robb egging Jaime on to come with him for a bar run.

* * *

Hours later Brienne was struggling to catch her breath.

“If you ever kiss me like that again...” she warned, and she pulled him with her. The two of them moved away move away from a dumbfounded Connington and his cronies.

“Shut up, I was trying to protect your honor.”

“By kissing me?”

“They called you a liar. Besides, you liked it,” Jaime shot back, “You stuck your tongue down my throat first.” 

“I did not!” she rebuked him, stopping and pressing the toe of her shoe against his own in warning. “You surprised me!”

“Then why’d you lick mine when I stuck it in your mouth?” he asked, pulling back and looking at her. 

Brienne sighed. “Just don’t kiss me again, alright?” 

Jaime opened his mouth, on the verge of saying something and shut it. He nodded. 

* * *

Brienne frowned at Jaime. Again.

“Brienne!” Margaery appeared, looking at the two of them with judgment. “Where’s your drink? It’s a wedding with an open bar and only the finest available. You two should have something in hand.”

“Is this because it’s on the Baratheon’s tab?” Jaime snorted.

Margaery smirked, “Of course. Let the Baratheons deal with the tab for Baratheon drinking.”

“Right,” he turned to Brienne, “do you want to hang back with Margaery while I venture into the masses?”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

He waved her off. “Unless you don’t want a drink, then I insist. I know you dislike crowds.” Jaime offered, giving her a warm smile.

Margaery turned her head and looked at Brienne.

“Oh,” she bit her lip, “then please.”

“Favorite drink still an old-fashioned?”

Margaery’s eyes widened while Brienne meekly nodded. “Yes.”

As soon as Jaime walked off, Margaery whipped around to face Brienne head on. 

“Okay what’s going on. What am I missing about you and Jaime?” 

Brienne blinked and shook her head. “There is no story,” she assured her.

Margaery snorted. “Please, he looks three steps away from undressing you at all times. It’s clear you guys were more than just friends at WU.”

Brienne grimaced, watching Jaime talk to the female bartender at the station with all his easy, casual charm. “‘Friends’ is cutting it,” she said, “we really weren’t ever close. It was more of a mutual antagonism than anything. We had a lot of the same classes and spent a good chunk of them arguing over each other in class.”

Margaery broke out in an unexpected laugh. “Of course!” she smiled, snapping her fingers like she’d figured out life’s greatest mystery. “I can see it exactly. And then what happened? Enemies to lovers? Fireworks in the classroom lead to hot hate sex? Some wild night studying and then you two finally gave into your mutual lust and ravished each other in the dark corners of the library?”

“No!” Brienne yelped. “It wasn’t like that at all.” A few nearby guests looked their way and Brienne felt a familiar heat creeping up her neck.

“Then what was it like?” Margaery pushed, putting her hands on her hips and giving Brienne that calling-your-bullshit look she saved for only the rarest of occasions, “Because a few hours around the both of you, and it’s obvious you guys have history with a capital H.”

Brienne shut her eyes, forehead wrinkling. “We…” she faltered. What could she even say about them? Margaery already had wild ideas in her head no doubt, and if Brienne gave a little, Margaery would undoubtedly take a lot. “We, uh—”

“Old-fashioned for the Lady.” Jaime’s velvety voice cut in as he came from behind, wrapping one arm around her body to hold out her drink in front of her. Brienne straightened at the sensation of his breath meeting her ear. 

Margaery had the gall to cast her a rather predatory look as Brienne went lobster red in Jaime’s arms. 

“Well now that your date’s back, Brie, I better check in on Loras and Renly’s shoot, otherwise we’ll be waiting more than an hour for them to finish their photos.”

“Don’t let them near the water,” Jaime said, resting his chin on Brienne’s shoulder, “otherwise our local Narcissuses will never leave their reflection.” 

Margaery rolled her eyes and raised her hand, giving a slight wave of her fingers. “Ta!”

After she left, Brienne tried to twist out of Jaime’s arms. She stepped away facing him, searching her mind for something to say. 

“Dance?” he asked her, nodding to the floor and then to her drink. Brienne blinked, realizing she already managed to empty her glass. How had she already finished all that?

Jaime commented, “It seems the ceremony left you quite parched. Who knows what you would have done without your gallant boyfriend to make sure his wench was properly quenched?”

“Oh gods,” Brienne groaned, “Please don’t say stuff like that.”

“Only if you dance with me,” Jaime said, holding out his hand.

Brienne eyed him warily but allowed him to lead her out to the dance floor. 

“I suppose I should have expected Renly and Loras to have the band play something like the bolero,” Jaime mused, drawing attention to the music as he led Brienne in a simple sway.

She looked at him with confusion. “What’s that?”

“It’s a type of music,” he offered, stepping back and moving her in a turn, “And there’s a dance. You’re either a matador and the bull or the matador and the cape.” 

She furrowed her brows. “What does that even mean?”

“Well.” He hummed. Then he spun her out. “If you’re the metaphorical bull, then,” he linked both hands with her and caught her in a half turn on the return that ended with her back against his warm chest, “I’m chasing you for all your worth and hoping I can catch you.” He spun her back into a basic position, his arm pulling her closer into him. “Or you're the cape, my extension and you’ll let me lead you either which way.”

“Why can’t I be the matador?” she whispered, frenetic with the feel of his breath falling on her lips. 

Jaime shifted his eyes, staring at her more intently and whispered. “Are you willing to chase?” 

Something in Brienne tightened, warning bells ringing in her head. Dancing with Jaime was a mistake. This was too emotional, too romantic for the likes of them. Did he even know? Or was he just too thick-headed to sense her unease? There was too much communication, too much openness that was needed in a dance like this. She sputtered. 

Jaime looked at her and smiled softly, easing his grip just the slightest, and Brienne reached out frantically to grasp at the little bit of space he provided her. 

“You look beautiful,” he commented, and Brienne stiffened. Jaime saw her, and his lips turned into a frown. “You do,” he insisted, “And I can’t stop regretting leaving you in Winterfell, I should have known you’d be the one who got away, not Cersei.” 

She stopped moving abruptly in the middle of the dance floor, almost causing the elderly Estermonts to collide with them. They glared, and she looked down. Jaime looked sideways to return their glare and scared by his look, the couple turned away. Jaime’s hand felt heavy on her waist. 

“You can’t just go around saying stuff like that,” she said, voice strained. 

“Why can’t I?” Slowly, he coaxed her back into a simple sway to avoid notice on the dancefloor. 

“Because I’ll take it the wrong way.”

“There is no wrong way to take it,” he insisted. “I love you.”

At that moment, Brienne’s heart stopped and so did the music. The sensuality, the love song that was the bolero switched, turning the 2/4 count into something energetic and pop. Something better to hide in a crowd. “I—I—I—” she tried, but words failed to leave her mouth. 

But the band was playing “Hot in Herre” by Lord Nelly now and guests were yelling and confetti was suddenly being thrown. The two of them turned to see Renly and Loras coming through the doors, waving like Kings greeting their commonfolk. “Is it getting hot in here!” Renly was yelling. 

Several guests hollered and chaos broke out as everyone welcomed the newlywed couple. Brienne hoped no one would take their clothes off.

“I should go find my seat,” Brienne muttered and scrambled away from Jaime’s arms and hightailed it to meet the rest of the wedding party and find her place. 

* * *

Sansa, it turned out, had a seat next to her, and when Brienne arrived, she was chattering away, happily. An odd moment for Sansa. Brienne tried to make eye contact with her to check in, but Sansa went on telling the table the merits of lemoncakes for health and happiness. Jon, kind enough in his duties as her plus one, leaned behind his cousin to fill her in on what she missed. 

“She’s a lightweight,” he whispered, “her pre-dinner Lemon Drop got the best of her and she’s on a roll right now but, don’t worry, she’s harmless.”

Sansa, oblivious to Jon talking right behind her, finally caught sight of Brienne, whose head was tilted her way as she talked to the older Stark cousin. Sansa gave that familiar wolfish Stark grin and pounced.

“You know when you used to rant on the phone about your classmate Jaime, I always imagined he was this jackass, Brie. I didn’t imagine he was a certifiably hottie who clearly has a thing for you! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

Brienne opened her mouth to lean over and whisper to Sansa to please for the love of the gods shut up, but her friend just kept going.

“You guys are literally perfect!” Sansa exclaimed. “Like he looks like he’s strong, Brie. I bet he could pin you down if you wanted. Does he? Cause you said you like that?” On one hand Brienne was touched by Sansa’s commitment to her sex life, but this public out of a nonexistent relationship was not the sort of limelight she was looking for.

“Sansa, please stop.” She moaned, hoping that the rest of the table was distracted by their own conversations to listen to Sansa’s drunk ranting.

“Brie likes to keep things between us if you know what I mean, Sansa,” a new voice joined them, slipping his arm over her shoulders and sliding into the empty seat behind her. “I pray you’d be so kind as to give her leeway in these trying times. She’s never allowed me out in public before.”

“Because _someone_ ,” Brienne muttered back, “wasn’t and still isn’t housetrained for public consumption.”

On the other side of them, Jon snorted. 

Sansa honed in on Jaime, then turned to Brienne, “I think he’s good for you,” she declared. “I mean, I’m just watching you two and it’s like— _boom_!” Sansa’s hands flew out in the pantomime of an explosion, and Jon leaned back to escape her flying limbs. “All this sexual tension. You could just get pregnant from it.” Half the people at the table caught the end of Sansa’s declaration and turned to give her a concerned look. “I just wish you told me though,” she added, looking as if she might cry.

“Sansa. We’re not—” Brienne started feeling guilty for lying to her best friend. 

“Thank you,” Jaime cut in, bringing her closer to him so she leaned back against his chest. “I really appreciate you thinking so highly of me, and I promise to take good care of her. I know she’s a real gem.”

“Oh my gods, that’s just the cutest,” Sansa declared and burst into tears. Quickly Jaime, Brienne, and Jon sprung into action to quell the waterworks. 

* * *

“Brienne, are you all right?” Margaery asked later, peering over at Brienne. After the first dance for the groom and groom, dinner was served and the wedding party was all seated, watching the proceedings with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Margaery had been quick to notice that Brienne seemed off the whole time, looking antsy and unsure.

Careful of Jaime’s arm slung around the back of her chair, Brienne looked over at her best friend. “Ah...yes. I don’t think red meat sits well with me. I’m just going to...to...head to the bathroom,” she finished lamely. 

“Do you want someone to come with you?” Sansa asked, talking over Robb who remained oblivious to them as he scarfed down his food.

Brienne shook her head, “It’s fine,” she assured her friends hastily, maneuvering to get out of her chair without making contact with Jaime. Margaery frowned and made eye contact with Jaime. 

_What did you do?_ She asked him but he only gave her a look of pure innocence that made her glare back. 

He looked away from her and inwardly smirked, enjoying the view of Brienne walking away in her tight, midnight blue silk dress. 

* * *

The Tyrell’s had stunning rose gardens, Brienne thought, making her past them and into the safe protection of the marble gazebo that stood covered with climbing vines that bore the Tyrell’s signature golden roses. She made her way up the steps and peered inside. Lit candles in wrought iron sconces cast a rose perfume upon the enclosed area and highlighted a lone padded bench that called to her. She wasn’t being a coward for hiding out in the gardens. The view of the night sky between the climbing roses was exceedingly lovely, and their perfume was surprisingly light and faint unlike the more heading, cloying smell of generic rose varieties. She could hear the hired band, the Black Brothers, playing soothing instrumentals of popular love pop songs. Truly, it was a nice place to bide her time. 

“Hiding out, wench?”

Brienne shrieked and nearly fell off the bench. “Sevens, Jaime! Don’t do that.”

He gave her a coy look and shrugged, stepping out of the shadows outside and into the candlelit path leading inside. His hands were tucked casually in his pockets, but the tightness to his shoulders betrayed him. Brienne cursed herself and her weak will. She’d known him, had seen his face a thousand times, but standing in front of her, glowing in the candlelight, he made her heart race. He looked so right, so made for her. 

She’d been used to the boy that was Jaime Lannister in their uni liaisons, but this Jaime who stood before her, sure-footed and genuinely confident to his very marrow, was all man. She did not know how to deal with his like. “What are you doing here?” she asked, then shut her eyes. She shouldn’t be encouraging him like this.

“You disappeared. Margaery sent me to find you.” So he bent the truth a bit. Margaery was already getting up to fly after her when Jamie had beaten her to the punch by rising from his seat and declaring for the table to hear that he was going to go check on _his_ girlfriend. 

Brienne watched him warily as he stalked up to her like a hunting lion, she was unsure by the gleam in his eye. “I’m not used to red meat; it’s primarily fish on the coast. I just needed a chance to get some air and settle my stomach.”

“Red meat is it now,” Jaime mused, “you seemed perfectly fine with the beef tourtieres earlier in the evening.” He stood at the bottom of the steps, appraising her and the insurmountable distance she tried to place between them. “I think you’re avoiding me,” he declared, taking his first step onto the weather marble stares. He no longer gave a damn.

“Why would I?” she retorted, mustering all faux ease. 

“Because I told you, you're beautiful.” He climbed onto the next step. “Because I told you I made a mistake in letting you get away.” He reached the landing. “Because I told you I love you.”

Brienne leapt up. “Stop that!” she cried, feeling hysterical and holding her ground like her life depended on it. The smell of the golden roses was heady and, topped with his smell, the combination was making her light-headed. He came closer, ignoring her, and he was absolutely _intoxicating_ . “I won’t have you glossing over everything that happened at Winterfell. We were never together. We only fucked, and I won’t have you looking at what happened with rose-colored lenses when _you_ were the one who explicitly reminded me that Cersei was the only one who ever had your heart.”

Jaime winced. “I told you Brienne, it’s over with me and her. Besides, just because we weren’t together, it doesn’t mean we didn’t have something. What about that time we took that roadtrip up to the Wall during senior year spring break. You sat shotgun, wearing that sunflower dress you were too afraid to wear in public, and had no problem laying your legs out on the dashboard no matter how many times I told you off. I made love to you a dozen times that trip because I wanted you, not because I missed her. Don’t you remember? ”

Brienne snorted. “Do I remember?” she mocked, feeling tears threaten to rise and quickly and mute her before she could get out what she needed to say. “Do you want to know what I remember?” Brienne tried to stand over him, large and looming. “What I remember is you coming to my dorm room the night before our last finals and thinking that _maybe_ we might have just made love before _she_ called you. The next thing I know you’re scrambling to get out of there like the house is on fire to go clean up whatever mess it was she made that time, and I was begging you not to go back to her because all she did was hurt you, but you left and didn’t come to the final exam and I graduated all alone. That’s what I remember. Standing practically naked in the snow pleading with you to stay and you pushing me away for being a deluded chit and for even thinking that what we had was ever more than what we said it was: friends having a fuck to blow off steam.”

Jaime’s face turned pained. “But it was something, Brienne,” he said, stepping into her space, trying to meet her eyes while she looked away from him. 

Brienne stepped back from him, calves hitting the bench. She shook her head. “Please don’t twist what happened into something else. I already lost my friend before, can’t we just try to do that again?” 

“Would you let me?” he asked. “You ignored all my calls after graduation, so I had to learn to make do with a like or a generic comment from you on Ravensbook.”

“I figured you’d get over it,” she admitted, allowing her legs to give out and falling into the cushion seat. “I thought you’d forget me easily enough and you seemed to.”

Jaime paused. “Oh, for Seven’s sake. Come on, Brienne,” he huffed. Brienne finally looked at him, startled. “You can’t seriously think I ever got over you,” he fumed, following her down onto the bench, looking more like he was preparing to pounce on her then sit for a sane discussion. 

“You had Cersei,” she pointed out him, “It’s always been Cersei,” she heard herself quote, sounding entirely dull. “That’s what you said.”

“Until you.” Jaime looked near wit’s end as Brienne watched him watching her, stress written clearly across his face.

“How,” she asked, “can you expect me to believe you when you said I didn’t have a chance?”

Jaime leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers in a chaste kiss. “Because there hasn’t been anyone else since you,” he answered her. “I was an idiot. I never got back with Cersei because I’d realized too late I’d gone stupid for you. Is that what you want to hear?”

Brienne leaned away and stared at him, speechless. 

Jaime kept going, “I went back to Cersei and realized I wanted you _okay_? But I’d fucked it up and told you off because I didn’t know how to be an adult about handling my feelings and ignored them until I’d ruined things with you and stopped wanting her.” 

“Oh.”

Jaime laughed, tentatively relieved she hadn’t run off. “Yes. ‘Oh.’ I’m stupid for you, Brienne Tarth. I was back then, and I still am now. We can ask Tyrion and Tysha if you want proof. They’ll tell you I’ve been a mooning, regretful sap for years now.”

“No, that’s alright,” she said faintly, still trying to come to the fact that Jaime had indeed just kissed her and supposedly wanted to.

* * *

When the party finally wrapped and they reached Jaime’s car, he leaned over and whispered, “Come over to my place, and we can strictly come dancing.”

Brienne snorted. “Gods, that wasn’t even subtle.” She leaned over to kiss him anyways.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> title translated from lyrics in "El Nuevo Amor" by Orchestra Baobab


End file.
